


let off some steam

by fiax



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Motorcycles, Prompt Fill, Street Racing, WinterIron Spring Fling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiax/pseuds/fiax
Summary: Sometimes Tony just needs to let off some steam in a way they doesn't involve his workshop. Sometimes he just needs to take his carefully designed, one of a kind motorbike and a break some road rules in street races where no one knows who he is. This time it looks like he might finally have some competition.





	let off some steam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iCheat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCheat/gifts).



> So Tony is lile 20 ish, and Bucky is like over 25, so theres a bit of an age difference, but I'm a sucker for a younger Tony.

Time, is a concept that really needs to be revised. How is it physically possible for Pepper to have been ranting for not even ten minutes, and yet felt like she’s been ranting for hours on end. Surely, Tony was a genius, he could figure this out, just a bit of calibration, maybe a couple of boosters to make the earth spin faster? Or would it be to send lot and lots of aircraft into the airspace, fly them round lots and lots. Whoosh, money makes the world go round.

“Tony? Tony, are you even listening to me?” Pepper leant over Tony’s desk, frowning. Frowning Pepper is never a good thing.

“Yes of course, shares?” Pepper scowled, _nope wrong thing to say._

“Go away Tony.” Pepper picked up her folder, before Tony could protest. “Go let off some steam or whatever, just have today off, you’ve been acting strangely since the new plans were released. No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t cause trouble.”

Tony perked up at that, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and it had everything to do with the Kawasaki Ninja in his basement. The beast in his basement, naught to sixty in under two and a half seconds _Tony had made some adjustments._ The bike probably was not road legal, but where was the fun in that?

The nearest street race simple, a drag race down an old abandoned road. Tony liked the drag races, especially against the cocky boys who thought their souped up Honda bikes would be a match for the Ninja. Sometimes, Tony would give them a second head start, they’d get all cocky and think they could beat him, only for him to finish lengths ahead of them. Being an engineer had some kind of effect over his bike.

The drag race was near Coram, in Upton, down Princeton Ave - a long dirt strip that was just over a mile long. A long drag race, it should discourage all the young people who were only ever in the drag races for the adrenalin kick. If Tony rode the bike right, his race would be over in under twenty seconds.

It took Tony just an hour to get to Coram, from Stark Tower it should have been and hour and a quarter, breaking about seventy road rules, and almost all the speed limits. He covered roughly 50 kilometres in 15 minutes, the Ninja weaving effortlessly in between other road traffic. Tony passed another sportbike who tried to race him by blasting past at about 120 miles per hour when the traffic was clearer, but when Tony hit the 200 mile an hour mark to just test the waters, the other bike backed off.

“ _Sir, I am aware that Miss Potts told you to let off some steam, but is 200 miles per hour quite necessary_?” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s concerned voice filled Tony’s helmet.

“J, I’m wearing a helmet, and all the protective gear, even the unnecessary parts, I’ve got you tracking what the traffic is doing ahead of me, and I’ve done 300 on bigger worse behaved bikes.” Tony shifted the bike into cruise mode, something he’d added himself to save fuel and be more eco friendly, or, as eco friendly as a supercharged engine was able to be.

“ _Understood. Please stay safe, Sir._ ” The A.I. was silent once more, leaving Tony with the mainly open road and the roar of the Ninja’s engine to keep him company.

Tony reached Coram just before dusk, leaving him enough time to grab a coffee, some doughnuts and fill up his tank. He trundled the bike down the hamlet’s roads, opening the bike up when he was on roads away from civilization, before finding the drag strip. A group of young adults were sat around talking, some on small dirt bikes, clearly not in the same group as him. Some on some decent sportbikes. One man caught Tony's eye in more than one way. He was sat on a Yamaha R1, capable of doing naught to sixty in 2.6 seconds on factory specs.

And this Yamaha was clearly not factory specs.

Neither was the driver. This was gonna be fun.

“Hey, you new here?” One of the men on the dirt bikes called out. Tony pulled his bike up opposite them, pulling his helmet off, hoping that his quick shave before he’d left the tower would be enough to hide his identity. It wasn’t everyday that 20 year old multi-billionaires tore up drag strips, and Tony was under specific orders to stay out of trouble and not be noticed.

“Yeah, came down from New York for this race, my friend said it would be good.” Tony spoke with a British accent, following how Jarvis and Peggy had spoken and encouraged him to use when he was growing up. His New York drawl was just too easily recognizable to anyone who watched any kind of TV.

“Oh yeah?” A scrawny blonde kid leant on the handlebars of his dirt bike, he scowled at Tony and his bike. “What friend.”

“Clint, relax, he’s not a cop.” A redhead girl leaning against the Yamaha laughed.

“How do you know? Huh? He could be here to rat everyone out.” He leant further forward, his scowl deepening.

“Clint, you dumbass, no cop is gonna spend over fifty thousand dollars on a bike, just to rat out a bunch of teens drag racing.” A tall African American man spoke. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous ‘cause he’s still riding a 2002 dirt bike, with what, seven horsepower?” Clint flipped him off, the man laughed, “I’m Sam, Sam Wilson, the red Ninja 12R is my baby.”

“Nice to meet you Sam, I’m Edward Carbonell, call me Eddie.” Tony hated his middle name, but it was better to go by that and avoid having someone recognise him, than be noticed and himself ratted out.

“Woah wait dude!” Another blonde called out. “Is that an H2R? Dude, those are crazy fast! Is that thing even street legal?”

Tony nodded, he knew someone was going to bring his bike up, it was a bike race after all. “Yeah, she’s probably not street legal after all the work I’ve done on her. She’s dangerous.”

The redhead looked vaguely impressed. “So who told you about this race then?” Tony looked around, other riders and teams were starting to pull up, the low light making them seem more like pigments of Tony’s imagination rather than actual riders.

“Rhodey.” The woman frowned, of course she would, he went by James to most people. “James Rhodes, he got me into street racing, helped me build - buy - my first bike.”

“Holy cow, you know James Rhodes?” Sam startled upright. “That’s so cool, how’d you guys meet?”

Tony shrugged, Rhodey wasn't that big a deal. “We went to MIT together, he saved me from one too many fights, I was just the scrappy kid who’s bark was bigger than his bite, he got me into bikes rather than getting beat up too much.”

The man on the bike laughed, something deep and rough, Tony honestly had never heard such an attractive sound. “Reminds me of how I met Stevie.” He nodded to the blonde who noted Tony’s bike. “James Barnes, these lot call me Bucky, you can too, if you stick around long enough.” God, the man’s voice sounded like honey, smooth and sweet, just enough of a drag to hook you in. Tony genuinely had no recollection of him questioning his sexuality so hard.

Tony’s voice got caught in his throat as he tried to speak. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Hi.” For once Tony was glad for the dark light and his Italian skin, he hoped none of the group could see his blush.

“Clint, looks like your race is up. Dirt bikes.” Sam called across the group, Clint saluted to the group, and powered his bike up, disappearing off towards the start lights.

The redhead grabbed her bike, it looked like a cross between a dirt bike and a sport bike. “My race is probably up next, I’ll catch you later.” The black and red bike whirled away, leaving a cloud of dust drifting across the group.

“Everyone calls Natasha Black Widow.” Steve, the blonde spoke. “One, ‘cause she’s Russian, a redhead and the same name, so she matches the comic book character, and two, no one ever wins against her. She’s been unbeaten ever since she got that thing.”

“Scary, what do they call you three then?” Tony leant forward, adjusting his seat so he was more comfortable.

“They call me Falcon.” Sam grinned, delight on his features as Steve and Bucky groaned.

“No one calls you Falcon, you dipshit. That’s a name you invented for yourself cus you’re a dick,” Bucky grumbled. “They call Steve Captain America because he’s a patriotic asshole who insists on driving a Harley and wears red, white and blue to all his races. Freedom and that.”

“What do they call you then?” Tony cocked his head, intrigued by Bucky and his Yamaha.

“They call him the Assassin. He’s another one like Tash. Never lost a race, every race over and done with so quickly that no one realises it was him.” Steve said. Tony smirked at that, unbeaten competitors were always the cockiest and most fun to race. That being said, Bucky didn’t look cocky per se. Just damned sexy.

“Unbeaten huh? We’ll have to see about that.” Tony nodded, always one to play that kind of game.

“Yeah, unbeaten, whatcha gettin’ at pretty boy?” Bucky’s tone was between predatory and flirtatious. His steely blue eyes fixed on Tony’s.

Tony swallowed, _hard,_ his throat catching. “I’m just gonna have to try my hardest to beat you then huh?”

“I’d like to see you try.” The taller brunet ran a hand through his short hair. “How about a bet?”

“A bet?” Tony leant in. “That makes things interesting, name your price, handsome.”

“Oh Jesus, here we go.” Sam rolled his eyes and turned away. Steve stayed quiet, his eyes flicking between the two men.

“Loser buys dinner.” Tony smirked, this was a win win situation.

“I have high tastes, gorgeous, better dig deep in those pockets.” Tony could probably afford to buy out whichever place Bucky wanted to go to, but still, fun.

Steve groaned. “Give it a rest, Buck. Eddie, chill out.” He started the Harley, “we’d better get you three over to the start line, looks like they’re getting your class together.”

Drag races were simple. You rode as fast as you could in a straight line. Standing start, of course. There was a person, usually a woman wearing less than acceptable clothes, standing on the start line to signal the start. A racers reactions had to be spot on for their race to go well. A racer could be riding one of the fastest accelerating bikes available to buy, but if they didn’t react on time, they’d lost the race.

Tony, thankfully, had fast reactions. Working in the lab with the ‘bots and the weekend binges, he needed good reactions.

And, of course, the years of racing with Rhodey had given him an edge, Rhodey kept them going and going until Tony could pull away better than he could breathe.

Still, despite all these years, Tony didn’t think he felt more nervous than when he was lining up to start a race. This was a dirt race, no need to burn out before.

The whole ground seemed to rumble from the force of the bikes that were pulling up at the start line. There were four bikes in this race, Tony, Bucky and two other people Tony hadn’t spoken to. The other two racers weren’t going to be an issue for Tony, sure they had nice bikes, but they weren’t a scratch on the Ninja. But Bucky, he was going to be an actual challenge. Tony was looking forwards to that. It had been awhile since he had raced someone who was riding a decent bike, and looked like they were properly able to ride the bike.

The man controlling the lights called them forward, making sure that everyone’s wheels broke the light gates, ensuring all the bikes were in place to start. He faced the lights and clicked a button, triggering the countdown.

Amber.

Amber. Tony built up the gas, holding the clutch open, the engine roaring growing louder and louder.

Amber. Tony opened the clutch incrementally, feeling the back of the bike drop, the power thrumming underneath him.

Green. Tony opened the throttle and the bike launch forwards. Rhodey would have been proud of him. There was no wheel spin, no wheelieing, just Tony and the bike rocketing flat out down the strip.

Tony could see out of the corner of his eye Bucky’s bike, but barely, his bike was kicking up too much dirt for it to be clear. So he opened the throttle as far as physically possible.

The bike responded beautifully. Streaking ahead of Bucky and the other races.

As Tony had expected, his race was over in seventeen seconds, almost. Bucky’s race was over just beyond three seconds later.

Tony pulled up at the end of the race, Bucky crawled up to him. “You said something about being unbeaten,” Tony was ecstatic, “not good to be over cocky there, love.”

Bucky tried to scowl, he really did, that was the first race he’d lost in a very long time, but the smaller brunette just lit up the night, that Bucky couldn’t do anything but smile. “I couldn’t have lost to a better opponent.”

Tony shook his head, “you absolutely could have, I absolutely will take this to my grave!” Tony’s head fell back as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, but any of my friends would have written me-” Bucky was cut off at the sound of Tony’s engine, the boy already had his helmet on, before revving the engine up, and drifting his bike around Bucky, stirring up a cloud of dirt. “Fuck!” Bucky spluttered as the dust cleared, showing that Tony had disappeared back down the track, his engine slowly fading away, the dirt trail blurring out his rear lights. “Son of a bitch,” Bucky muttered under his breath, riding quickly back.

“So you lost then, huh?” Sam was the first to greet Bucky when he pulled his helmet off.

Bucky shook his head. “Of course that’s what you first say, no I missed you, no you rode well that race.”

Tony snorted ungraciously. “You didn’t ride well though, that’s the point, you lost by a good three seconds, I won, you’re buying dinner, handsome.”

“Where to then?” Bucky restarted his bike, “there’s a diner about six miles north of this strip, we could go there?”

Tony nodded, the adrenaline from the race slowly running out, leaving Tony to the realisation that he was going to dinner with a _stunning_ stranger, who he’d practically just met. “Sounds good,” he mock saluted to the others. “Lead the way Buckaroo, or can your bike not cope.”

“He wins one race, and thinks he’s flipping Tony Stark, man’s too spoiled to know one end of the drag strip from the other.” Sam laughed at Bucky’s comment, not entirely noticing how Tony faltered and nearly stalled.

 _“Sir, are you okay? Your pulse has risen dramatically, and you’re not undergoing any kind of physical exertion.”_ A few holographics came up on Tony’s visor, he shook his head to clear them.

“I’m fine, J, I just enjoyed being me for a bit.”  Tony swallowed, if that’s Bucky and his friends reaction to Tony Stark™, what would Bucky think of the actual Tony. Not Edward ‘Eddie’ Carbonell.

Tony looked over his shoulder. “You coming Bucky, or am I going to have to find my own way?”

Bucky flipped his visor down and drove after Tony. “Let's go.”

The diner was probably meant to be a twenty minute drive, but Bucky didn't want to follow any of the speed limits, and they made the ride in about ten.

The diner was pretty, the kind that became a second home to wayward teens needing a break from real life.

Bucky ordered a strawberry milkshake, with extra cream on top, muttering something about needing consolidation for his loss. Tony laughed at him, and ordered the same, trusting that, as a local, Bucky would know what's best.

“So, what got you into racing Bucky?” Tony paused his drinking to look up at Bucky. _Damn, these milkshakes were good._

“We always used to race our pushbikes when we were younger, but Steve was never strong enough to keep up, so we managed to buy ourselves a pair of dirt bikes, made it easier for us to race.” Bucky smiled softly at the memory, “then Steve and I joined the army, and Steve hit a growth spurt and we could. manage the big guns, so to speak. Our ambitions grew from there.”

“That's, that's really sweet,” Tony said. “You and Steve must be close?”

Bucky nodded. “He's like my brother, I can't imagine life without him, he's just always been there for me.”

Tony grinned. “That's a good type of friend to have.”

“So what are your future plans?” Bucky took a long draw from his milkshake, his eyes fixed on Tony. _Damnit, how is he so hot?_

“I’m a mechanical engineer, so I create designs and stuff, I’ve always been into cars and bikes, you know, the whole powertrain part.” Tony smiled at the thought of his Roadster. “What do you like to do?”

“I’m a driver, I drive people places, sometimes I race for them. And when I’m not racing for people, I take part in these drag races.” Bucky looked down before continuing, his cheeks pink, “I’ve always wanted to drive in the NASCAR cup, but I’ve never had a sponsor to get me there.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, NASCAR would be fun to drive in. If you ever need a mechanic, you can always give me a bell. I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

“Yeah?” Bucky leant forwards, his gaze slipping into predatory. Tony felt his cheeks flush, dropping the eye contact.

“Yeah.” The word was barely a whisper. They stayed sat like that for a few moments, the silence peaceful and comforting, until the server came over.

“Sorry boys, closing time,” she scooped their empty glasses into a tray. “You gonna be back tomorrow with ya friends, James?” She rested the tray on her hip, watching the teen.

“How could we not, Angie?” He grinned up at her, pulling out a ten dollar bill to hand her.

“You’re a doll, I’ll getcha your change.” She bustled away.

Bucky looked down, “Angie is probably the best server this side of the Atlantic. She’s been like an extra aunt to all of us as we’ve grown up.” He stood, extending his hand to Tony. “Best get going.”

Tony was in awe as Bucky took his hand and lead him out of the cafe, holding the door for him, and holding his hand, all the way to their bikes.

“Can I-” Bucky didn’t get to finish his sentence before Tony was up on his toes, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s next, pulling himself up close against Bucky, pressing his lips against Bucky’s. Bucky froze, not expecting such a fast reaction, before softening into the kiss. Wrapping an arm around Tony’s back, pulling him even closer. Bucky tasted sweet, probably why he bought the strawberry milkshake, _cheeky fucker._

Tony leant back, flushed cheeks, blown pupils. “Kiss me? Yeah, you can.” He took a step back, “sorry for being so forward.”

Bucky chuckled. “Don’t apologise doll, am I gonna see you again?”

“Does that matter?” Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“I think it does, depends on how I kiss you next.” Tony nodded.

“I think you will see me again, when? I don’t know.”

Bucky reached out and pulled tony back against him. “Okay then.”

And he kissed Tony like he was drowning, and Tony was the air he needed to survive.

When they parted Tony felt light headed, he’d never been kissed quite like that before. “Yeah, I’m definitely going to need to see you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I had so much fun writing this, my school search history is f u l l of drag races and bikes. They must think that I'm such a wierdo.


End file.
